#thank you for sending me this bestie <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[chapel-of-rizztual]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

A god I don’t believe in

This is the most angsty thing I’ll ever write and I hurt my own feelings.

Dogs bark back

I just think Phantom and Mountain need to be put in their place.

In the heat of the moment

Wet, messy and needy Phantom. Enough said.

My body and my blood (you’ve claimed it now, so come drink up)

I just think Copia should be used by all his all ghouls. As a treat.

Figging hell

Dew deserves to be in pain.

The lion and his little lamb

Omega3 my beloved <3

I know this is six apparently I can’t count

[your-fave-is-christian]

Jack Frost/The Guardians of Childhood from Rise of the Guardians! thank you, you're awesome :)

The Guardians of Childhood from Rise of the Guardians are Christian!

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

avatar 3 theories?

WHAT A QUESTION.

I've let this marinate because I wanted to answer it seriously and I wanted to be right, I love being right.

-Discussion between Payakan and Lo'ak about Neteyam's death and guilt. Especially because of the name of the movie we've seen, I think this relationship is gonna be important. Neteyam is gonna haunt the fuck outta him this movie.

-Spider Sully struggles, like Jake claimed him but I think there's gonna be issues around that.

-Kiri will connect to the spirit tree again and meet with Grace again, I'm gonna guess it's without parental knowledge. More Eywa magic knowledge.

-I think there's gonna be a lot of work done with Tonowari and Jake trying to gather clans and fight. I'm on the fence about this but I think Ronal is gonna be all for it, especially after losing Roa.

-This one is general but I do think things are only gonna get worse for the squad. James Cameron and Jack Champion both said some spooky things about the ending of the third movie. Idk what the fuck else Neytiri can loose but I'm sure it'll somehow be worse for our girl. If I had to guess, I think the Quaritch being alive revelation won't occur until the end of the movie. I can see it being a big event and we are left with the fallout until the next movie.

I don't want to speculate too much because we have like NO information yet, but just from plot threads so far this is what I think.

[strangerhands]

omg😭😭 i just remembered i had a dream last night where i saw two new oscar movies in theatres back to back (they werent any of the current projects hes been working on, just some random shit my brain made up) and he looked so goddamned good that i literally was like slamming my hands on the table (idk how or why there was a table there) and gripping my face and gritting my teeth and biting my lip and blushing like... that was the realest dream ive ever had actually... like yea. yeah. i would. i do. i will. that is how i am with him.

[bloodskinandteeth]

Bound, break, desire for Wylla and Yulia !

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Wylla has never been imprisoned in a traditional sense, but as far as her marriage it was like living in a gilded cage. She was married off at the tender age of fifteen, at the insistence of her father, who wanted the favor of a wealthy lord. It was a marriage of duty, not love, but things were relatively harmless until Wylla was struggling to concieve. 

The lord’s frustrations were taken out on her physically until she managed to get pregnant, only to miscarry the child toward the end. Wylla had broke to news to her lord husband after they’d retired to their chambers for the night and a struggle ensued. The lord drew his dagger and left a gnarly wound that descended from Wylla’s left cheekbone and curved down into the edge of her lip. This terrible scar remains as a reminder of that night and remains with her the rest of her days. She did get out, however. No one but Wylla herself knows what happened that night, only that the lord himself was found by guards dead in the dirt, as if having fallen from the window in his tower.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

There are a few moments where she has broken down completely. Leaving her home to be married to her lord husband, and her subsequent return after his death. Another being the death of her brother Harlan. None of which were quite so cosuming as recieving a raven in King’s Landing to tell her her home has been reduced to ashes with no known survivors. Often her grief must be quite well hidden, having been taught to keep her composure as a lady should, however this tragedy had Wylla’s wailing echoing the halls. The only people who have ever seen her in such a state are her handmaidens, her mother and Aemond.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Wylla, in her most idealistic desire, would want nothing more than to wed Aemond and live out their days together. She recognises this is a foolish fantasy, given they’re at war, and prays at the very. least they can make it out alive.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Similar to the previous answer, Yulia hasn't been captured or imprisoned in the traditional sense (at least not in the backstory i've created for her so far). However, she often finds herself in the presence - and under the authority of - vampires who are older and more powerful than herself. Being in this position various times since her turning means that the only way she's been able to survive thus far is by holding her tongue and playing her cards right. She has no physical scars but plenty of mental ones, especially after escaping the influence of her maker and her immortal 'brother'.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

The death of her maker, for one, caused Yulia more pain than she could have imagined. Blood tears like rivers traveling down her cheeks and a dark hole within the soul she believed she no longer had. She can't quite remember the pain of turning after all those years, but she imagines it couldn't have been worse.

Outside of this, Yulia remains quite aloof. Time has numbed her to most tragedies, and breaking down often feels pointless after all she's endured. What is worth breaking down over when one can live forever? Few have seen her lows, vampire or human those who have are all dead now.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

After struggling for a long time to find meaning in her immortal existence, there is not much for Yulia to want for within her own life. She now often looks outwards for meaning and inspiration.

She's not very open about it, as fraternising with mortals is frowned upon, but Yulia desires more than anything to understand people and the world around her. She has a voracious apetite for knowledge and communication, to hear stories and philosophise with others; it's become her way of finding meaning in her long life as it's not a desire with a particular end goal.

[cashweasel]

It was hard to pick,,,,, so, fjskdjsksjs it’s so many (only sort of sorry,,ngl) 😂

5,17 for kiyazan

9,25 for daemon nd karima

8,15 for Gideon and valen loll

29 for all of em 💀

Once again I FORGOT ABOUT A BLORBO ASK but I literally had this in the drafts and everything and today I bring you answers FHRHDJKSSJ

Kiyazan:

5. How do they comfort each other when they are sad?

Yazan is a big actions guy so if something is bothering her he’d want to take care of it and fix it immediately also kiki loves cuddles and cuddles she shall receive fjskakdjdk will literally do anything to make it better,, holding her, talking about it, dancing it out, ordering her favorite takeout (yazan talking about it is a mix him being sincere and dissing the shit out of the person/situation and I kinda love it djdjskdjdk) leaving kiki’s part for you because I wanna know 😌💗

17. Their ways of expressing their love.

We talked about yazan putting up the shelves that kiara got that have been sitting around since forever and that pretty much what it’s about 😂 he just does things for her, or does things so she doesn’t have to. Pre relationship or pre living together yazan would just go around her house and fix anything that needed fixing fjdksidjdk,, also a big part of why he doesn’t mind doing the chores. To put it shortly acts of service and quality time!

Daemon and karima:

9. How open are they with their feelings?

I know why you’re asking this 😂💀 karima is…. Unfortunately still not the best at it at least in a serious vulnerable context and she bottles up a lot BUT she would sit down with him and be like “can I tell you something homie to homie 😔” and even then she tries to to keep it from getting too deep even when it comes to expressing love she’s not one to get Too sentimental but will let him know she cares about him. But this is mostly when they’re still in the beginning of their relationship (honestly it might take her 2+ years of being like that 💀) but I will say the first time she lets herself cry in front of him…………..

25. Share any headcanons about their relationship.

FHDKSJSKDJ ok so you know karima will just KO whenever wherever and her sleep is heavyyyyyy lol and I just think daemon doesn’t let her sleep in her makeup that’s all 😌 she’s knocked tf out snoring and all and he’s just 🥰 wiping her makeup off and doing her skincare for her

Valen and Gideon:

8. What are their most prominent memories of each other?

PLEASE 😭 valen’s is that he used to keep a pet rat as a kid, everybody refused to acknowledge it because it wasn’t actually a pet it was some rat he found lurking in their gardens and deemed it his bestie and would check up on it every day fssksjdjdj and when the rat died gideon was the one that buried and held a funeral for it 😔

Gideon’s most prominent memory has to be valen punching his dad in a room full of people loll bc not only was it incredibly humiliating and an act of love towards his bestie but it was also the first time anyone really stood up to this bully of a man and he just got wrecked by a teenager fjskaksjdj it was great seeing him hunched over w a bleeding nose until he made a comment about the company his son keeps and then it was both boys vs the guards trying to tear them off him fjdksksjskdn

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

Sort of lol,, gideon struggles so much with his self image and thinks he’s broken and has nothing to offer or that letting ppl get to know him is essentially a burden on him and them so he just doesn’t make friends or meaningful relationships easily and valen over here just Fails to fathom it because to him gideon’s the most solid friend he’s ever had and literally nothing like all those things he says about himself and so he always makes it a point to let him know all the things he appreciates about him

Valen on the other hand thinks he’s the most interesting and amazing person anyone has the pleasure of knowing and that he’s worth it and because he’s set that expectation for himself any criticism from others or negative emotions from himself is shoved aside in favor of the facade and while gideon agrees he’s amazing and lowkey idolizes him lol he’s the only one actually capable of giving him a reality check that he’ll listen to and seeing him as just valen

All:

29. What are your favorite moments that happen between them?

WAAHHHH LMAO ok to be completely fair my fave kiyazan moment is them throwing up into the same toilet together and kiki tolerating the bugs yazan collects despite hating them bc if this isn’t love idk what is 😂

My favorite daemon karima moment is him kicking the ball in her face when they first met DJDKSKDJDJFN and also ceramics class

And my fave valengideon moment is them going into the city and buying some lame lizard which turned out to be a large dragon they tried hiding in a barn where hay and fire don’t mix very well SGDHFKSKDJDJ rip

[oc romance asks]

[arnold-layne]

🎥 (This for the Asylum AU) and 🙌 for the emoj ask

🎥 oh i CANNOT not choose “just another psycho” by motley crue here. it’s my civic duty

also “chemicals” by halestorm would fit nicely

🙌 this is a hard question, because i like a lot of my paragraphs, but this little dialogue im especially proud of:

it just turned out…so casual. talking about such a horrible thing as self harm. really managed to show how desensitised to all this the nurses are *pats myself on the head*

[dunmertwink]

Songbird

Word Count: 4,446 (17-20min read)

Baldur's Gate 3

Summary: (Part I of II) --ACT I SPOILERS-- Basically how I imagined Mizora's arrival at camp after sparing Karlach to have gone. After she leaves, it becomes a re-write of the conversation you can have with Wyll. I wanted to characterize my Tav more as well as show his and Wyll's close relationship (and history).

I don't think I've ever posted my writing here - so y'all are in for a real treat (sarcasm). I'm not the best writer so, if you make it thru this, you are a saint. And thank you!

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, physical, and sexual abuse

The camp was thrust into utter chaos at Mizora's sudden arrival; Gale may have lost his knickers for how high he jumped. There was much shouting and bumping into one another as weapons were drawn (weapons a la pots and pans), and the dog, for the moment, had gone barking mad.

The devil's business was simple: she'd come to collect. Her cheeky, nonchalant grin soured when she looked upon her charge and his living, breathing target, whose head was still attached. Interesting.

"Tsk. Naughty, naughty," Mizora hummed.

Wyll's bronze complexion paled, and his stomach launched into his chest. His uneasy gaze drifted between Mizora and Karlach, the tiefling woman he was contracted to kill. He pursued her into Avernus, the first layer of the Hells, then onto the Mind Flayer vessel that planted this lovely little parasite into his one good eye. This, of course, was under the pretense that she was a devil; Archdevil Zariel's attack dog, not the mortal she turned out to be.

Amidst all the chaos, the entire camp watched in horror as Wyll appeared to exit his body at Mizora's command. He was anguished, grunting and gasping for air. Searing flames and a thick, blackest black abyss engulfed him, and the camp lost sight of him for a moment. The group's clamoring to pull Wyll from this abyss was futile. He returned a moment later, but he was… different.

"There," Mizora said, pleased with herself.

Wyll's head ached as heavy horns sprouted from his forehead. His body changed—angles sharper, and his once deep brown eye glowed a demonic red. There was a soreness about his whole body, and the last remnants of sweltering heat could be felt in his extremities.

The devil was saying something to him, but he couldn't make out her words. His head was buzzing with a mighty headache, new from the weight of his infernal horns. A loud ringing blocked out any hope of a thought. He could make out the shapes of Kestrel, the tiefling bard, Karlach, Shadowheart, the Sharran cleric, and Gale, the awkward, bumbling wizard, all fussing over him, but their words, too, were muffled by this awful din.

Mizora took in the scene. Satisfied, she opened up a portal to her domain. She would not leave, though, without uttering the final remark.

"I do hope you enjoy your new body, Wyll. There is magic that even I can't change," with a chuckle and a snap of her fingers, her demonic wings curled around her, and the blackest black abyss of her portal enveloped her, "Hmph, Ta-ta."

There and gone in an instant, Mizora's departure allowed the camp to finally settle into the quiet rhythm of before.

All had retired to their tents a bit more relaxed; the danger had passed, at least for the moment. Even the dog, Scratch, settled down and, as usual, selected his sleeping arrangements for the night. He chose Lae'zel, the stern, fearsome Githyanki warrior, and followed her to her tent, much to her chagrin.

"Well. That was… something," Gale scratched his head and sighed, visibly dispelling the anxiety of the moment, "Best to get some rest, if such a thing can be achieved. I do hope Wyll is all right. That can't be easy.

"But, I also wish he had mentioned being a warlock—pacted to a devil. Might have been a pertinent detail…"

The group still, of course, had these grotesque little brain worms to contend with: a "gift" from a fanatical, power-obsessed god with ambitions to usurp the known realms.

"If I find this creature's slobber on my greaves, I will skin it," she grumbled.

Everyone knew she loved the dog but stubbornly refused to admit it. This world was new to her after all, and she may have taken a liking to it, much to her dismay.

Unnerved, Kestrel remained by the campfire, his gaze drifted between the flames' graceful ballet and the dirt once blackened by the devil's portal. The ebbing heat warmed his skin, engulfing him like a cozy blanket.

He leaned back, his gaze following the swirling smoke rising into the dark expanse, illuminated by the silver moon. The night sky was awash with stars—thousands of tiny, sparkling, white jewels embroidered into the black velvet firmament. He could hear the soft lapping of the river Chionthar's waves against the rocky shore and its bubbling current surrounding the camp.

Fireflies bumbled about, little candles floating through the air, blissfully unaware of the world around them. Peepers and crickets composed a peaceful symphony in time with the crashing waves of the river.

Wyll—where was he? Kestrel didn't see him return to his tent like the others. Understandable after what had just happened.

He imagined it was agony; having every piece of one's soul violently ripped through each layer of the Hells. And coming back… transformed. He also knew from experience how much horns hurt. At least he'd had the benefit of time. Wyll's just… popped out, fully formed. In an instant. Kestrel found himself idly rubbing the base of his horns, remembering their dull pain as they slowly broke through his skin, growing up. And—gods—the headaches.

Aside from that gruesome transformation - how was he feeling? Lost, maybe. The once proud "Blade of Frontiers," hero of the people, now a devil. A prolific monster-hunter, now a monster himself. Hmph, Astarion was probably giddy from the irony of that. Maybe Wyll saw it, too, and had a chuckle to himself. But still, Kestrel knew it had to, on some level, sting.

There, Kestrel convinced everyone that his wild coughing fit was simply from the choking smoke of the inn's fire—not a panic attack sending saliva down the wrong pipe.

His gaze drifted upwards toward the soft, ghostly glow of the moon. A painful memory pricked the back of his skull—the same memory that had plagued him in Waukeen's Rest earlier that day.

The elven woman they'd rescued from the inferno, Counsellor Florrick of Baldur's Gate, had dusted off her purple gown. The gesture wasn't much use - she was covered head to toe in ash. Nevertheless, she stood tall and informed her saviors that Goblins and Drow had attacked the inn—set fire to everything… and taken the duke, Grand Duke Uldar Ravenguard, Wyll's father.

Kestrel suddenly realized why Wyll seemed so familiar. His heart seized then. With lungs burning, panic overtook him as he began to vividly picture a baby-faced knight in shining armor, storming through golden gates, his wooden practice sword in a sheath meant for an iron one.

No matter how hard he tried to shake it then—in front of this stately official from Baldur's Gate and her contingent of Flaming Fists, the memory persisted. He doubled over, coughing wildly between desperate gasps for air.

He chuckled about it; what a fool he must have looked like. After that display, he had doubts that the counselor had put much faith in him. But even now, as he sat idly by the fire's warmth, in the night's stillness, his breath hitched.

~

"Ah, young master Ravenguard, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

That voice. It tore at the recesses of Kestrel's mind like a gnoll from its host. Ripping. Visceral. Gnawing.

A fourteen-year-old boy stood tall in the grand foyer of the manor, stoic and determined, his warm brown face still plump from baby fat.

The symbol of the Flaming Fists was emblazoned on his leather jerkin. His small, iron pauldrons glistened in the fire-light of the manor hall. He clutched at the hilt of a sword concealed by its sheath. The sword was wooden—but maybe the boy hoped no one would call his bluff.

"I wish to speak to the Lady Zamura," his voice cracked, still in the throes of puberty.

"Would you? Well, far be it from me to refuse the son of the Grand Duke," the voice slithered and snaked its way through Kestrel's memory.

At the top of the angled stairs stood a shaking, tiefling girl of seventeen years. She wore a royal-blue brocade gown with intricate gold embroidery dotted with pearls. A large sapphire of the deepest blue was the centerpiece of a golden circlet upon her forehead. Her curly, raven-black hair was neatly tied by golden cuffs into two long braids over either shoulder, reaching her waist. There was a faint, purple handprint across her blue-gray cheek.

The man turned from young Wyll Ravenguard and beckoned the girl to his side. Like a herded sheep, she obeyed. He towered over the girl—a hulking mass of fine silk and furs. His thick, pale pink hand adorned with a sharp onyx ring clutched her shoulder like a monster's claw around its prey. She did not make eye contact with either of the two humans.

"My sweet, the son of the Duke is here to see you," the man's grip on her shoulder tightened.

Her gaze slowly rose to meet the boy's. A shaky, feigned smile began to cross her meek countenance.

"Hello," she uttered, her voice barely audible.

The boy bowed curtly to the girl and spoke in a dignified manner, "Hello, Lady Zamura." He cleared his throat and continued,

Every fiber of the girl's being urged her to run to the boy, jump into his arms, and escape from this gilded, marble-encrusted hell. Every ounce of her body wanted nothing more than to scream, "Help me!"

"A few townsfolk came to my father on your behalf—earlier this evening, you were seen in the lower city.

"They said that you must have run away… trying to escape this place.

"That my father's Flaming Fists were contracted to bring you back here.

"I need to know that you are here of your own volition."

The man's grip on her shoulder tightened immensely. Fear smothered her heart and silenced her inner screams.

"Well, my love, tell him how happy you are here," there was so much venom in his tone that Kestrel was sure Wyll heard it then.

But this fourteen-year-old boy with a wooden sword could do nothing to save this girl. He knew it; his defeated posture said as much. The vile, festering pustule of a man holding her hostage knew it. Even she knew it.

A lump grew in her throat, threatening to break her demure facade. She swallowed it as best she could, feeling the man's grip constrict evermore. It hurt.

"I'm very happy here. I'm to be married soon."

~

Those words felt like a cold blade in Kestrel's heart, even ten years later. The one thing that horrid nightmare revealed to him now—is that Wyll was good. He was always good; with him, he carried a heart of gold. He didn't deserve to feel like a monster—he could never be one.

He chose to spare Karlach's life at great cost to his own, a woman he never met and was under contract to kill. Likewise, all those years ago, he decided to march into that manor and confront a great beast for a girl he'd likely only heard stories of.

Kestrel's guilt panged in his chest. After Wyll's transformation, he accosted him, hollering about how he hypocritically waxed poetic about steering clear of the devil Raphael, yet there he was, pacted to Mizora. The brave, baby-faced fourteen-year-old Wyll rushed back into Kestrel's memory. He had to find Wyll, if anything, to apologize.

Wyll sat in the rocky sand; his knees pulled up to his chest. He sullenly watched the small waves lap at the shore beneath his bare feet. The water was icy-cold against his skin—a relief from the searing, skin-melting heat he'd felt during his harrowing experience not moments ago.

His mind wandered to dark places. What's the use in doing the right thing, if it means being punished? Who was he kidding, he would never change his ways. Couldn't. Somehow, though, he knew those ways would be his end.

"There you are," a chocolatey voice pulled Wyll back from his sea of bleak thoughts.

The bard definitely put on airs. Hells, he even gave Astarion a run for his money. Beneath all the layers of bullshit, though, his heart was kind. Wyll hadn't known him long, but that much was plain to see—no matter how hard the bastard tried to hide it.

He looked out for this rag-tag group of misfits. Helped the grieving bard Alfira finish her song. His camaraderie with the tiefling children was impressive. Saved one of them from harpies and another from a venomous snake.

He even gave of himself to keep the vampire fed. Sure, there may have been a less noble motive behind this one (surely, those two didn't believe that the camp was unaware of their late-night trysts in the woods). Nonetheless, Kestrel Everdusk was a good friend to have.

They'd gotten into a spat when Mizora arrived—Wyll could remember that much over the ringing. It was faint now, and he could finally think. Wyll couldn't blame the bard; he'd put everyone in danger by keeping such a secret as Mizora. He wondered what the others thought of his devilish appearance now—wondered what Kestrel thought of him.

"Wyll, I'm sorry I was short with you earlier. I—"

"No. You were right."

"Hm?"

"Wyll, ugh. Look, we all have our secrets. I can understand why the Blade of Frontiers would want to keep the true font of his power under lock and key."

"I should have told you about it—it was reckless of me not to. There's too much on the line."

He sighed, "Mizora is a fickle creature, even as devils go. I put you all in danger."

There was a brief pause between them—both mesmerized by the soft waves cast by the river's current.

"Pah. The Blade of Frontiers. Look at him now. Hideous. A horned devil—a gods-damned monster," Wyll stared down into his rippling reflection below.

His demonic red eye glowed faintly on the water's surface, his prominent horns protruding from his forehead, then curling up and back over his neatly-rowed locs.

Kestrel smiled cheekily, "Am I a monster?"

Wyll recoiled, stammering, "Shit, n—no! I uh…"

That made Wyll smile. Maybe even like a fool. There was a quiet warmth around them now despite the cold water.

A gentle giggle escaped Kestrel's plump lips, "Easy, Tiger, I'm teasing. I'd say you're quite the handsome devil.

"People will see what they want to.

"You can save all the cats from trees and help all the old ladies cross the street that you want, and they'll still see a devil.

"You are the only one who truly knows your heart. You know that you are no monster. I know. We all do. Those that love you will see you.

"You're still the Blade of Frontiers. And whatever else you want to be."

Wyll looked down at their reflections. Kestrel's red-tipped horns gracefully curved back from his forehead in an elegant twisting pattern. His eyes glowed white as the moon with a bright, red ring around his sharp, feline-esque pupils. He was downright pretty if Wyll was honest. He felt his cheeks grow hot, flushing red. He thanked the gods for the darkness. Now, Kestrel seemed so very familiar—yet he couldn't place why.

"Was your pact what drove a wedge between you and your father?" Kestrel asked, recalling the conversation at Waukeen's Rest regarding Wyll and his father's estrangement.

"Ah, it certainly didn't help, but a rift had been growing there for a while."

"Oh?"

Wyll chuckled, his gaze falling from the water into his lap, "Aye, I'd say the first time I saw him differently was when I was fourteen."

Kestrel's expression sank. A pang of fear struck him, and he tried to fight the rising tide of panic. Fourteen? I knew you then, if you remember.

Wyll continued, "You see, there was this girl—"

Gods.

"A bard, like you. Tiefling, too. I never heard her play, but I'm told she was a legend. One of those—ah, what's the word—prodigies. They called her The Siren of the Wide."

Shit.

"Some noble took a liking to her and snatched her off the streets one day. Folks from the lower city came to petition my father for her rescue."

Kestrel tried to steady his breathing, but the memory trickled back as Wyll spoke.

"My father refused—that noble's family, the Vels, was in too many pockets. Highly influential in the upper city. Political suicide if he crossed them.

"So, I took it upon myself."

He laughed, "I brought my wooden practice sword. Hid it in an iron sheath. Can you imagine?"

Kestrel let out a nervous chuckle. Wyll continued with his tale.

Kestrel froze—a flash of an intricate illusion he set in his favorite hiding spot played in his mind. A disturbing scene of himself hanging with a blank, deathly stare and his head cocked to one side. The illusion was deep - it even had a touch component that would rely on the finder's memory of how his body felt. It took quite a bit of concentration. A shudder ran through his body, and nausea churned in his stomach.

"The bastard had a troll's grip on her shoulder. Made her say that she was fine. I knew she wasn't.

"A ten-day or so later, all of Baldur's Gate found out that she'd died. Suicide. The night before that sham of a wedding.

"I was so angry with my father—we could have saved her—"

Wyll must have noticed, "Ah, are you alright?"

"Oh, the water's cold, is all," Kestrel deflected again as he had at Waukeen's Rest. No. Nore more. Wyll deserves the truth.

He shifted nervously, pulling his feet from the water and his knees up to his chest.

"There's something I should tell you," he spoke slowly, each word becoming shakier than the last, "I… struggle to talk about it but—"

"You don't have to—"

"No, I need to. But, erm, I can't—"

Wyll didn't think he'd ever see the bard fumble over his words. But here he was, struggling to string together a sentence. Unsure. He watched as the tiefling squinted his eyes shut and exhaled deeply, grounding himself.

"I'm not good at talking about this, so, erm, if you don't mind, I'd—" the tiefling fidgeted, "I'd like to tell you a story."

To Wyll, that last bit sounded more like a question than a statement. He laughed, jokingly scandalized: a bard who's lost his eloquence? Absurd.

"I'd love a story," he smiled cooly.

Kestrel let out another shaky breath before he spoke. His shoulders sank as he collected his legs in an embrace, resting his chin over his knees. He turned to face Wyll, letting an arm dangle to draw shapes in the sand beside him.

"Bear with me here—it may be a bit… juvenile. I'm, erm, not in my right mind."

"Of course."

He cleared his throat and began slowly:

There once was a bird who sat in her mother's nest, Feathers plain and dull like rags on her breast. She longed for plumes of beautiful color— "Those you shall never have," said her tawny mother.

A sorrowful song she sang, and a crowd did gather. "But, little bird, you're so lovely; what's the matter? Your bosom is full, and your song is true, Nay, there isn't a man who does not covet you."

T'was not love that the bird lamented in her art; But a plumage to mirror that within her heart. Handsome, billowing feathers of all hues, Maybe the deep reds of roses, or perhaps ocean blues.

The crowd did not understand but loved her song, did they, For the crowd grew like wildflowers on that day. So big was the gathering around the little bird That her father flew in, astonished at what he'd heard.

"We are not songbirds!" He snarled, all fire and rage, "For songbirds are scandalous, impure, and depraved! You would be proper, and I'll see it true!" Off her father did fly, all feathers of brightest blue.

Wyll heard Kestrel's voice waver, and his words came slower. It was clear to Wyll that he was stringing this story together on the fly, impressive for not being in his right mind.

The tiefling paused for a moment before steeling himself to continue. Though shaky, he found his momentum and a certainty ran through his words:

Lament did the sorrowful little bird once more. Larger a crowd, she beckoned than ever before. "A siren song," said they, all cheers and fanfare— But wretched was her heart, so full of despair.

Her father returned, on a man's shoulder he perched. "No longer will I see our hard-won esteem besmirched. A lady you will be—proper and demure. This man will see to that—of this, I am sure."

The man smiled with the teeth of a lion Dressed in fine silks, gold jewelry, and diamonds. From under his velvet cape, he did lift A shining, gilded cage—"A Gift!"

The man clipped the little bird's tawny brown wings. He placed her head in a bridle so she could not sing. He tried to break her bones and her spirit, too. Nay, there wasn't a thing the wildflower crowd could do.

With broken bones but an iron-clad spirit, she cried "No more will I be forced to live in this lie!" From the gilded cage, she set herself free. But her wings were broken, and she could not flee.

Again and again, she escaped her cage, But the lion-man grabbed the little bird in a rage. "Retreat from me, you will not, foolish bird. For I am your master, and you will heed my word."

Kestrel paused, memories of the man's grotesque rage resurfacing. "You are to be my wife—and you will do as I say!" the man shouted and spat, hot with a fiery rage over Kestrel's refusal to pleasure him. Those vile words echoed in his mind. The man struck him that night. So deep was the gash across his lip from the man's onyx ring that it left an indented scar.

The man had Kestrel's arm in a vice grip, one that left a nasty bruise behind. He took what he wanted that night, anyway. The tiefling tried to push back the memory of the pain and fear resurfacing.

Shutting his eyes tight, his breath quickened - the panic ever rising in his chest. He felt a warm hand gently brush his shoulder and flinched —it was only Wyll, who drew back his hand apologetically.

"Gah. I'm sorry—" Kestrel gasped. He dug his hand deeper into the sand, feeling each rocky granule rake against his skin.

"Breathe. Take your time. I quite like your story," Wyll beamed a comforting smile.

Kestrel nodded and took a moment to regain himself. He wanted to tell this story more than anything. He exhaled deeply and continued,

Her spirit now broken, the little bird despaired No more pain could she suffer; no more evil could she bear. The flame of the hearth by her cage serenely burned. For the sun-yellow fire to engulf her, she yearned.

Snapped were her bones, and clipped were her wings, An end to her strife, true peace this blaze could bring. Out from her cage, one last time, steadfast did she leap. "No more can the lion-man hurt me," with joy she did weep.

The blaze overtook her, her tawny wings brightest red Sun-yellow was her belly; fiery crimson was her head. The fire consumed her and thus was the little bird's end. But joyously, her last moments in color she did spend.

No more did she suffer, no more did she cry. So serene in silent death did she lie. She wished only to live a life in vivid color, To live as her true self and not as a caged other.

From the little bird's ashes, the fire yet burned, From these flames, a vivid new life was earned. A songbird of steel-blue, copper, and white, Strong of spirit and unbroken wings took flight.

Over fields of wildflowers, the songbird did fly, He flew over deep seas and hills that kissed the sky. His song was beautiful—his call, proud and sincere. His powerful song was sung loud for all to hear.

He sang of a little tawny bird who suffered much; Her father's betrayal and the lion-man's clutch. "I sing for the little bird, for a songbird was she. I sing for the little bird, for the little bird is me."

The only sounds that remained as Kestrel finished his tale were the soft, lapping waves of the Chionthar and the peepers among the cattails. He felt that a weight had been lifted off of him. That somehow, his tormentor's grip on his mind loosened ever so slightly. His idle gaze returned to Wyll, who seemed far away. Oh no.

Wyll's mind wandered. The river's gentle waters still lapped at his feet, which now felt bitterly cold. He stared blankly into the rippling tide. Kestrel is the Siren of the Wide—the damsel he wished so badly he could have saved ten years ago! The damsel that he, and all of Baldur's Gate, had thought dead. The reason, at least in part, for the sowing of his and his father's difficulties.

But how could this be? There was a body—a massive, city-wide funeral. The Vel family was disgraced; they lost everything and were run out of the city as pariahs—the Siren's murderers. Good riddance. But... how? It's impossible!

"You're… her," Wyll breathed in astonishment, "But—how? They found your body—there was a funeral—all of Baldur's Gate mourned!"

Kestrel shifted where he sat, taken aback, "Really?"

A funeral? People... mourned him? He figured the Vel family would simply toss the duplicity into the Chionthar. Then... who found him, if not the Fists?

A snapping sound cut through Kestrel's thoughts. He followed the sound to Wyll, snapping his fingers, trying to get his attention.

"Kestrel! How did you do it?"

"An illusion," Kestrel hummed, eyes distant, "I altered the 'Invoke Duplicity' spell."

He spoke plainly; it was clear his mind was elsewhere—lost in the night of his brilliant escape from Baldur's Gate.

END PART I

[jackdup]

Nisha would brush his bangs off his forehead before placing a surprisingly chaste kiss to it. Thanks for the drink and the much needed laugh, kiddo. 💜

@idyllicserendipity || squeaks so loudly ! (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

So, he was beginning to wonder if all the people who knew him convened regularly to discuss What are the best ways to shut up Timothy? Because gradually, Tim was noticing they were all getting . . . pretty freakin' good at it. (And maybe he should thank them—? It at the very least saved him some of his breath in the end.)

Like right now, for example: when all it took for him to not only immediately shut the hell up but also promptly forget what he was even saying (which kind of meant it was stupid crap anyway) was Nisha's hand first flicking aside some of his hair with a super uncharacteristic gentleness that caused Timothy's brain to stutter. But that was just the “first” aspect: the second . . . ? Well, let's take the first and multiply it tenfold. Maybe a hundredfold.

Timothy was left blinking real intelligently.

“ . . . Sure—! I-I mean . . . ” He cleared his throat as he pored over her face, catching that way one side of her mouth always quirked just a touch higher than the other when she smiled. “You, uh . . . You looked like you needed it, and ya know—? Anytime, Nisha. Like, any . . . anytime.”

[neosatsuma]

Neo. Unhinged character bingo. One Arthur Lester. Go.

SHAAARRKK!!!

okay. all right. okay I can do this I'm normal (lying)

[indecisive-dizzy]

Ramble about Eddie to your heart’s content, bestie :D

I’m honestly very interested in your ideas :3

Again, don’t be scared to just ramble in my ask box, I love hearing peoples ideas

AJDKKAGAJAKAK- THANK YOU <3 <3

I'm wailing rn /pos

My AU! Disabled Eddie!! Ok so he wasn't born with his disability, it came about later.

My Current story is that he had stroke in late middle/early high school! I have done research and Yes it is possible for teens and younger to have strokes. From what I recall it can be significantly worse for them compared to adult strokes

Eddie was left with permanent complications and is disabled bc of it. He has coordination, balance, and general mobility complications among a list of other post stroke effects. I just found the word I was looking for a few days ago to describe his mobility issues, it's Ataxia!

Eddie has to deal with bouts of muscle weakness on his right side which can effect his vision. He also gets vertigo a Lot and at this point dizziness is expected every time he stands.

He uses forearm crutches when he needs extra help walking bc he does have good days where he may not need them! But for longer distances he brings them bc he's better safe than sorry. He also has cane but he doesn't use it As much.

He also has a wheelchair that he Hates. He hates having to use it. But his Really horrible days leave him unable to stand, much less walk. He wishes he could just hide it somewhere and never think about it but alas. it's important.

He dislikes the wheelchair so much bc it makes him feel useless. He is Not! I want to clarify that wheelchair users are perfectly Capable and Independent! Eddie just has an issue with overachieving and working himself too hard. He wants to be helpful and do So Much but there are some things he can't do while in his wheelchair. He was stuck in a chair for months after his stroke and it was devastating back then. He has No good memories with a wheelchair so he continues to dislike using it.

Ok putting a read more bc I am not shutting up for a While

Relationships with the neighbors! Generally the same. Barnaby doesn't chase him bc that would be mean (? I can't think of a better way to describe it)

Sally is still Sally but she's specific on her mailman hate (lmao) to make sure Eddie and everyone else knows she's not faulting him for his disability.

Hmm yeah everything else is pretty much the same. I guess everyone is also more open about offering Eddie help from time to time if he looks like he needs an extra hand. They're not persistent or anything, but if they see him struggling to carry a package or two they're more inclined to help.

I still don't know how Howdy gets his shit. Honestly If Eddie is having a crutch or chair day,, Howdy just won't get his stock unless he gets it himself. I can't think of a way for Eddie to deliver all those heavy ass boxes.

He does ask people to pick up their packages occasionally too. He tries to deliver them all himself but it's not always possible. He offers a trolley they can use.

I want to talk about angst. So this is very specific, I'll try to keep it short. growing up, Eddie lived in a four bedroom house. two downstairs master bedrooms and two upstairs normal bedrooms. Before his stroke he was upstairs, his older brother in the other room, and his older sister in the bedroom downstairs.

Afterwards he had to move downstairs. His sister Hated this. She loved her room and her private bathroom and she was very prissy about it.

This snowballed into her just,, taking all her frustrations out on Eddie. He took Her Bedroom. He's getting all the attention. Her little brother was ruining everything.

Eddie was devastated by this. He went as far as to attempt to convince his parents to let them switch rooms again. He couldn't physically walk up the stairs most days but he just wanted his big sister to not hate him anymore.

Their relationship never fully recovered. As an adult Eddie will still find ways to blame himself and feel guilty. But he just can't bring himself to talk to her.

They used to be so close. She let Eddie experiment with her makeup, they talked about fashion and boys and she helped him so so much when he was questioning his sexuality.

and then it just, fell apart. But not quietly like a loose thread but rather a house that wasn't built quite right and the screws came loose one by one.

Eddie's memory gets really fuzzy when thinking that far back. but some of those memories are burned into his mind and he wishes he could forget them like he does everything else.

[andwegogreen]

Either your friend is too much of a coward to publish the reasons or you asked her to not publish the reasons becayse you know theyre true. Wishing death on someone and stanning a racist is accepted on this website for some reason? You should be ashamed of yourself. You need therapy.

who pissed in ur cereal anon

[graveyarrdshift]

(for the prev ask) idk if u have fictional others but you're pretty cool and nice so !!

Actually, I was today year's old when I learnt what "fictional others/fo" stands for 💀 but thank you so much for thinking I'm nice and cool, it's so nice of you 🥹❤️ you're very cool and nice as well❤️

[stood-onthecliffside]

Lucky says hello!

HI LUCKY I WOULD DIE FOR YOU LUCKY

[vanyafresita]

i love you t4t lesbians, women loving women, girlies being just roommates

[shuadotcom]

Smoke & Mirrors (M)

🎡 Summary: You’re feeling uncharacteristically adventurous and your boyfriend just can’t say no to you.

🎡 Pairing: Stoner!Seungcheol x Stoner!Afab Reader

🎡 Genres & AUs: Smut, established relationship au

🎡 Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

🎡 Warnings: Marijuana usage, profanity, hair pulling, pet name (baby), dirty talk, blowjob, unprotected sex, mirror sex, sex while high, semi-public sex, creampie

🎡 Words: 3.6k

🎡 Note: Written for @k-vanity's Wanderlust Festival.

Genre/ride: smut - ferris wheel Trope/event: petting zoo - established relationship

Thank you to my beta bby @horanghater mwah 💋

Taglist: @duhnova @gyuwoncheol @multi-kpop-fanfics 💗

“Oh my god. The carnival is in town.” You spring up on the couch from where you’ve been lounging, head in Seungcheol’s lap. He nearly drops the bong in his hands, but manages to keep it in his grasp.

“You wanna…go to the carnival?” He asks, his sentence coming out just slightly slower than usual. Your Saturday date nights with Seungcheol typically consist of getting stoned, watching tv, stuffing your faces, and then fucking a few times, but you’re feeling restless and adventurous tonight and are itching for something else to do. 

Saying no to you has never been one of your boyfriend’s strong suits, which is why you make the short walk from your apartment a couple of blocks to the fairgrounds. Living in the city means easy access to things you need and it helps that it’s the middle of fall, so the air is chilly, but not uncomfortably so, making the walk enjoyable.

“What if people figure out we’re…high?” Seungcheol asks after you arrive and purchase your tickets. He looks around and whispers that last part as you file into the entrance.

“They won’t as long as you stop acting suspicious!” Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at you and purses his lips.

“Me? Suspicious?” You blink back at him, two of you having an impromptu staring contest before bursting into a fit of shared giggles. You likely look insane to the people passing by you standing off to the side, doubled over in laughter, but you don't pay them any mind. Seungcheol’s wide smile and infectious laugh are all you can concentrate on.

When you finally get a grip on yourselves, you take his hand and drag him behind you onto each ride you can. Typically, you’d be hesitant about getting on a ride that came out of a suitcase, but the weed makes you more daring and puts you in a good mood. It helps that Seungcheol, who normally would prefer to stay on the ground, goes on each ride with you, even if he’s a little more apprehensive than you.

Seungcheol lets you drag him around to all of the fast-paced rides first: the tilt-a-whirl, the pirate swing, the slingshot ride, bumper cars - anything that satisfies your cannabis-induced need for speed. He even lets you buy some feed to give to a few farm animals in the small petting zoo. Unfortunately, he does need to practically lift you in his arms to lead you away from the piglet you attempt to steal numerous times. (“We can name him Wilbur!” “That pig is not ours, Y/n!” is the last thing the animal’s owner hears, frowning as you’re taken away.)

Between putting your life and trust in the hands of bored looking carnival workers, you and Seungcheol make it a point to eat. You had left your apartment before you got too deep into your munchies stash, so you had to make up for it with as much funnel cake and kettle corn you can inhale without getting sick.

“Can we please go on the ferris wheel?” Seungcheol pouts at you after you finish off your pretzels. 

You’re surprised, eyeing the giant wheel a few feet away from the picnic table you’re sitting at. 

“You wanna go on the ferris wheel?”

“I need a break from all the fast and furious rides and that’s the only one that will slow your crazy ass down.” He laughs and you can’t help that your eyes stay locked on the way his eyes squint and his nose crinkles when he lets out the sound - one of your favorite sounds.

You relent because of course you do, and you let him take you to the ferris wheel with him. Seungcheol holds his hand out to help you enter the ferris wheel cart then files in after you, the ride worker shutting the door tight behind you. Seungcheol sits close to you in the small box, his thighs pressing against yours as you wait to start your ascent. 

Once the ride finally starts to move, you marvel at the way everything beneath you gets smaller and smaller the higher you move, even if it’s slow and easy-paced. Seungcheol glances out the window on his side here and there, but the weed doesn’t seem to be doing enough to ease his mind at the new heights you reach on the wheel.

To distract him, you reach out and hold his hand, startling him, but he recovers quickly and grips your hand. His fingers are cool as they link with yours, his hand soft and secure.

Something in you stirs and you let your eyes wander, refamiliarizing yourself with the shape of his hands. Your eyes trail up to his arm covered in a jacket that isn’t too tight but still hugs his biceps enough. It’s not zipped all the way so you can see his chest underneath, the cotton shirt underneath hugging his defined pecs (and by god are they defined).

It only takes you a few minutes to feel your stomach churns with a familiar need for Seungcheol. You squeeze your thighs together as you eye his neck and up to his face. All of the skin along the way is much too clear and mark-free if you do say so yourself.

He’d taken his beanie off when you got on the ride and you can see how messy his hair is, especially after he ran his hand through it as many times as he did while you waited for the ride to start. You want to run your fingers through the dark strands so bad. 

So you do. Seungcheol is surprised but doesn’t shy away from your hand. He does the opposite in fact, bringing his head closer to make it easier for you. Seungcheol has a lot of qualities you like and one of those is how even though he’s usually in charge in the bedroom, it takes little to no time to initiate intimacy with him. 

He simply cannot say no to you.

Knowing this, you start to move your hand down, giving his hair one last comb through before grazing your fingers over his thick neck, fingers tapping the sensitive skin as you go. Seungcheol sighs, leaning into your touch and you go down to his bicep, squeezing it as you keep going until your hand lands over the crotch of his sweatpants. 

That seems to break Seungcheol from the daze he had slipped into when you started touching him. He looks at you wordlessly, red-rimmed eyes half-lidded but still asking you a million questions. What are you doing? Are you sure? Here?

Wordlessly, you give him your answer by squeezing his already half-hard cock. You’re so damn lucky that weed makes your boyfriend just as needy the same way it does for you.

Seungcheol groans but doesn’t stop you and instead spreads his legs wider, inviting you in. 

Without hesitation, your hand slips into the waistband of his sweatpants and his underwear 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, head slowly angling back to the window of the cart.

“Want you so bad, Cheol,” you whisper even though there’s no one around. “Wanna suck your cock. Can I please?”

“Shit, baby of course.” Seungcheol helps you pull the waistband of his sweatpants down enough to expose the opening in his boxers. You fish out his cock, the heaviness of it weighs in your hand and you can feel just how sticky your panties are against you. You have enough sense to glance out of the ferris wheel card window and you notice that you’re still inching at a snail's pace to the top.

Bending over still in your seat, you give the head of Seungcheol’s dick a few kitten licks. A deep sound rumbles in his chest and it almost makes you moan in response just hearing him.

But time is of the essence, so you swallow him down your throat in one go, the man bucking his hips and yelping in response. His hands fly to your hair, fingers weaving into the base of your strands to tug.

Moaning at the slight sting, you bob your head, letting his dick slide against your tongue, making sure to hollow your cheeks as you work him. Seungcheol loves it when you gag around his length so you do it for him, letting his cockhead nearly hit the back of your throat each time you bring your head down.

“Fuck, babe. You’re so fucking good at sucking my cock…” his words draw out as he starts to fuck your face, albeit lazily. You hum out affirmatively around him, your pussy clenching at the praise. 

Your hands wrap around all of him that you can’t take, moving in tandem with your head as you gulp him down, listening to his heavy grunts echo off of the cart walls. It mixes with the wet sound of your mouth working him up and taking him in over and over again.

When Seungcheol starts to pant frantically, you know he’s close.

“Mmm, want you to cum in my mouth,” you drawl around his length, only coming up for a big gulp of air and to tell him what you want.

“W-wait, I wanna fuck you.” The fingers that are tangled in your hair still as he tries to lift you from his cock.

You let him fall from your mouth and sit up, pouting at him. “I don’t think there’s enough room, Cheol.” He seems to remember where you are and how small the space you’re in is.

“Y/n, I can’t wait till we get back to your place. I might cum in my pants on the walk back.”

The thought makes you giggle which earns you a sharp smack on your thigh. You can feel the sting through your leggings and it only serves to make you wetter, your panties inevitably a complete mess.

“Hmm…how about when the ride is up if you can find someplace to fuck me we can do it here.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Seungcheol’s expression turns serious, clearly a man on a mission. He finally turns to take in the ground beneath you, scanning for some place, any place, to take you away from prying eyes. Just long enough to fill you with his seed and watch the look on your face as you cum all over him - for him. 

The ferris wheel is beginning its descent as he tucks himself back into his pants and you think he sees something that may be promising, a determined look on his face. When you safely reach solid ground and your cart door opens it’s his turn to drag you around the grounds.

You walk past plenty of rides with their bright lights and loud sounds trying to distract you from what you both want - no, need - right now. All of the booths and rides seem to be running and packed with patrons, nowhere private in sight as of yet.

The answer comes to you when the two of you stumble upon a mirror maze attraction. The building has a ‘closed’ sign on the front doors which are assumedly locked tight.

This doesn’t deter Seungcheol as he simply sneaks with you around the building, looking for some way to get you both inside. When he finds that the back door to the attraction is way too conveniently unlocked, you think of it as a gift from the universe. The universe obviously wants you two to fuck and has handed this to you.

Seungcheol holds your hand tight as he goes into the door first, tiptoeing into a back room, presumably where workers would be when the attraction was live. There is another door that leads you right into the maze. The lights are dim, but they’re on and you can’t help but wonder if someone plans on coming in here at some point.

He takes you far enough into the attraction that you’re surrounded by nothing but yourself, but you’re still close enough to where you came in. The last thing either of you want is to get lost and need to call for help.

“It’s so weird seeing myself so many times. Do I look silly?” You question out loud, eyes sweeping over all of your reflections surrounding you. It makes you a little dizzy seeing so many copies of yourself.

“Of course not, baby. You look as beautiful as always.” Seungcheol’s words echo through your mind when you finally notice he’s behind you now, meeting your eyes through the mirror when you look up. 

He's pressed up against your back, his hard cock obvious against you. “So pretty and all mine.” Seungcheol grabs your jaw and turns your head to the side to bring his lips crashing into yours. His tongue immediately pushes through the seam of your lips, wrapping around yours as he grinds against you fully clothed.

You moan into each other’s mouths as his hands move to grab at every part of you - your tits, your stomach, your thighs, your ass. Seungheol explores your body and your mouth and it leaves you as nothing but absolute putty in his hands.

When he pulls away from you, you whine in protest and he places a peck on your cheek.

“I know, sweetheart, but I need to be inside that pussy so badly. You want that too, right?”

“God, yes, please. I need you so bad, Cheol.”

“Fuck yeah, you do. Gonna give you what you need, baby.” He hurries to pull his sweats and his underwear down enough for his length to be free, letting the fabric rest around his thighs. He helps you shimmy your leggings and panties down your legs and drop at your ankles. You’re close enough to the mirror now that Seungcheol bends you over, your hands resting on the cold glass.

“Look at you already, baby. Already dripping for me just from sucking me off and making out?” Seungcheol taps the head of his cock against your ass then down to your pussy lips. He nudges it against your folds once before pulling back, and you whimper at the loss. 

“Yes, please, Cheol. Need to feel you. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck, baby and I will.”

Through the mirror you watch Seungcheol bring his hands around you to your mouth, offering you his index and middle finger. “We have to be quick, so can you help me get you ready?” 

Without a second thought, you’re nodding and when he brings his fingers around to your mouth, you suck them in greedily, making eye contact with him through the mirror. You suckle on his digits, wrapping your tongue around them just like you did to his dick.

When he deems his fingers sufficiently coated, he pops them out of your mouth and brings them to your sticky folds. His first stop is your clit, rubbing a few circles into the sensitive nub. Your head falls forward as a long, drawn-out squeal leaves you as soon as he makes contact. You’re already so wet and wound up that you don’t think you’ll last very long at this rate. Lucky for you, your boyfriend is at the same point, his breath shuddering as he slides his fingers inside of you, reveling in how warm and tight you are.

Seungcheol’s thick fingers piston in and out of you, scissoring them with each plunge back into your heat. You love the feeling of him prepping you. He always takes his time to get you ready to take him, giving you extra care, but this is different. You’re not in one of your beds or even the car;  you have to be quick to avoid getting caught, but you also need him badly.

“Cheol, please just fuck me, please. Can’t wait anymore.”

“I wanna take my time with you, but fuck, I can’t wait either.”

When he pulls his fingers from you, you look up again and through the mirror, you watch him suck on them, eyes fluttering closed momentarily as he savors your taste. Then he’s grabbing at your hips, his cock nudging your entrance. 

Your eyes roll back when he finally slips in, sheathing himself perfectly into your walls. The two of you share a noise of pleasure, his much deeper than yours, and you swear you can hear the bass in his voice vibrate through him and into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Seungcheol’s hands take hold of your hips, starting at a pace that already has you breathless. Your palms lay flat against the mirror in front of you, fingers splayed to keep you balanced. He fucks into you frantically and with power, the slaps of his pelvis smacking into your ass sound bass-boosted to your ears and it’s your favorite sound at this moment.

The weed always makes feeling Seungcheol inside of you so much better than it already does when you’re sober. Coupled with how he’s driving into you so quickly and so harshly, you feel that much closer to floating away. All of your senses are on hyperdrive as he pistons his hips harder and harder, only making your cries and mewls for him that much louder as your eyes slip closed.

“God, you sound amazing, baby. But you look even better.” Seungcheol cups your face to keep you focused on the mirror in front of you. “Open your eyes.” It’s a demand, not a question, so you do. 

Sweat beads at your forehead, your droopy, red-tinged eyes staring back at you looking wild. Your tits bounce even from underneath your jacket due to Seungcheol’s thrusts. The mirror is fogged up where you’re breathing and your hands keep readjusting to keep you up, leaving sweaty prints in their wake. Seungcheol looks no different behind you. His eyes are tired but still boring into yours with each thrust, his tongue darting out to lick his already saliva-slick lips as his face glistens with sweat.

His broad chest rises and falls underneath his layers and you can’t help but think about just how good he looks when he’s not bundled up. The thought makes you clench around Seungcheol’s dick and it only serves to make him fuck into you harder, shoving his length so deep into you that you swear you feel him in your chest.

“Fuck me, Cheol, fuck gonna cum!” You sob, legs trembling to hold you up as your words slur together. 

“Yes, yes, come on, baby, cream all over my fucking dick.” Fingers that know your body almost better than you know yourself reach around you, pressing between your thighs and rubbing your clit. 

It takes only a few tweaks to have you falling apart, mouth hanging open as you do your damnedest to bite back the squeal you want to let out. Shockwaves roll over you as Seungcheol’s powerful hips thrust into you one, two, three more times and then he’s cumming too. The warm, sticky feeling of him milking himself into you has your eyes rolling back and your body going lax against the mirror. 

With the only sounds now being just you and Seungcheol breathing heavily, you become acutely aware of just how fucked out you look. You wonder if people will be able to tell that your boyfriend just rearranged your guts in such a public place.

“Hey,” Seungcheol interrupts your train of thought by tapping your thigh to bring your attention to him. You meet his eyes in the mirror and he flashes you a warm, reassuring smile. “Let’s get out of here?” 

He helps you right yourself and pulls your leggings up, then redresses himself. He takes your hand once more and you’re able to sneak back out of the attraction, easily avoiding getting caught. 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you snicker, your earlier adrenaline rush quickly returning now that you’ve gotten away with what you wanted.  

“That’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” he mumbles and you agree with him, sharing more laughter with him as you loop your arm through his.

Could you curl up right now and take a nap? Yes. Could you also do a lap around the fairgrounds like a crazy person? Also yes. But, when you catch sight of Seungcheol’s disheveled hair that he’s run his fingers through a thousand times tonight and his red lips that he’s still biting between his teeth, you only want to do one thing.

“We can do something else crazy if you want,” Seungcheol glances over at you, curiosity written all over his face as he takes in your words.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Mmm, well the outdoor loveseat on my patio is spacious enough for both of us. And there’s a chance someone could see us up there if you were feeling up to being daring again.”

“Since when were you so open to exhibitionism?” 

“Since I let you fuck me in a closed-down carnival attraction that anyone could’ve walked into at any time.” 

Seungcheol licks his bottom lip again and you want so badly to have that be your tongue on him. 

“Let’s go back to your apartment,” he finally decides (not that it takes him very long to do so). “But I wanna eat you out first. Gotta have you ride my face for everyone to see.” His words go straight to your cunt, wetness already pooling and mixing with his cum still tucked inside of you. 

And just like that, you’re thanking the past, much more stoned you for feeling adventurous. You have a feeling after tonight, even more adventures await you and Seungcheol, and all of them more than likely involve you crying out his name. 

You can’t wait.

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